


Last Words

by lotsofbigangrybees



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Deaf Character, M/M, also! hawke is mostly deaf, lads i drank the juice that makes u edgy 2day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:17:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21520984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotsofbigangrybees/pseuds/lotsofbigangrybees
Summary: But it wasn't him. The Anders he knew, the Anders he loved, wasn't like this.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke
Kudos: 4





	Last Words

"I understand if you want to kill me." Amos knelt before Anders, watching his face intently. He tapped Anders' knee, relieved when his eyes darted down to watch his hands. 

' _Why?_ ' Amos was quick and sharp with his movements, none of the usual theatrics. 

"I killed a grand cleric, Hawke. Everything is going to get worse, and not just for mages." Anders' eyes were empty, unfocused. The circles under his eyes were darker than they'd ever been, purple and puffy. His eyes were bloodshot, and an unmistakable blue glow lingered just beneath the surface, fighting with the usual honey brown. 

' _Did_ you _do it?'_ Of course he didn't. Anders wasn't a terrorist, a misguided revolutionary. He was a healer, and would not, could not, rain this kind of destruction upon the very people he protected. 

"I don't know-I- _he_ made me lie to you, love." The sewer. Amos' face fell as he remembered Anders' excitement. A way to separate him from Justice, a way out. Anders had lied to him. Or had it been really been Anders? It was getting harder to tell. A warm kiss from the man, then a threat from the spirit. 

' _Anders, are you still here?'_

"I don't know anymore. I don't feel right." He didn't look right, either. Sitting rigid on a crate, hands balled into fists. His hair was falling out of it's usual ponytail, strands of hair gathering on his robes where they'd been pulled out in frustration. Pale, broken, beaten. 

' _When did you last sleep?'_

"What? I don't see how that-" Amos signed again, frowning. Varric, Isabela, and Merrill shuffled somewhere behind him, large shadows cast by flashes of magic and fire. "The last time I stayed with you." Anders finally allowed himself to make eye contact. He looked afraid, eyes wild. "I can't think, he's too loud. _I'm wasting time."_ He lifted a hand to his mouth and went to bite a knuckle, Amos' eyes drawn to the faint pulsing blue that ran alongside Anders' veins. 

' _What will you do?'_ Amos reached for the hand, retrieving it from harm's way, sending small pulses of creation magic through the muscles. He was no healer, but it was better than nothing. 

"I could run, but it wouldn't be safe. What if it happened again? It's not worth it, it's not justice it's- _No!_ " Amos flinched as electricity crackled across Anders' hand. "I'm too dangerous." Amos raised an eyebrow. "You don't understand, he's fighting me, he wants to hurt you, you're in my- his way." 

Varric's hand landed on Amos' shoulder, he turned to watch the dwarf's mouth. 

"Hawke, people are dying out there. We have to help." He turned to look at his friends. Merrill's eyes were wider than usual, and she jumped at the signs of nearby fighting, knuckles white on her staff. Isabele stood a few feet away, eyes locked on the gate, face grim. 

' _I need more time._ ' Varric stepped back, watching warily as Anders stood, and Amos turned away. 

' _You have to kill me.'_ Deft hands, nimble from healing, calloused from fighting, signed to him. Amos shook his head, moving to cradle Anders' face in his hands. Tears welled in his eyes, he was shaking, the smell of ozone that accompanied Justice threatening to permeate the air. _'Justice is angry, he's not right. I'm an abomination, love. You have to kill me.'_ Amos felt his companions' eyes on his back. _'Please.'_ An arc of blue electricity arced from one hand to the other as he signed. Amos swiped a tear away from a damp cheek, ignoring his own tears. 

_'Promise me you'll wait?'_ His hands shook. Wait for what? Where would he wait? Where would he go? Would Justice let his mind be free, or would he keep him, even in death? But Anders understood. 

"Until the end of time, love." Amos looked at the man in front of him, memorising each curve, every wrinkle, drinking him in. But it wasn't him. The Anders he knew, the Anders he loved, wasn't like this. His Anders always had a little smile, a secret one that often Amos only noticed. It curled edges of his mouth ever so slightly, and softened his tired eyes. The eyes that could diagnose pain so easily, mending it with a flick of his hands. Hands that Amos was holding, ignoring the jolts of resistance as something _other_ fought for control.

Anders. Circle Mage. Warden. Apostate. Healer. But you couldn't see it anymore. All that remained was this shape that stood, wearing his face, fighting as he tried to speak, to sign, to communicate.

An explosion in the distance lit up the sky, sparks showering buildings, and presumably, people. Amos was sure there was screaming, shouting, crying. Varric was right. There wasn't any time. He looked back up into Anders' eyes, trying to focus on the man, blocking out Justice. 

_'I'm glad it's you, and not a templar, or the Wardens, at least.'_ Amos thought he saw a flash of the smile, and swallowed down a sob. Cold metal was pressed into his hands. Anders' knife. How many times had he used it to harvest elfroot they'd found whilst wandering Sundermount, to cut a ragged bandage? Amos accepted it nonetheless, but looked to Isabela. She grimaced. 

"A clean slit across the throat would be best. The fastest way, at least." She watched him, gripping the knife with uncertainty. "You can't hesitate, Hawke." She added, then turned back to the gate. Anders' hand on his waist turned him back. 

"It has to be soon. I can't keep him back for much longer." He stepped forward, and tilted his head, baring his neck. It was an echo of something so achingly familiar, so desperately intimate, yet in this moment, it was impossibly foreign, a memory of another time. 

' _I love you._ ' Anders signed, pressing a sweet kiss to Amos' lips. He watched as Anders began to shake, eyes and veins unable to contain the raw power of Justice, if the spirit could be called that any longer, igniting beneath the surface. Amos gripped the knife and swallowed. 

"I'm sorry." 

**Author's Note:**

> @wwarrdenn on tumblr :^)


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